


I'd walk to the end of the world for you (and maybe fall in love for real on the way)

by ZenaWA



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But it's cute so just roll with it, Dancing, Dead Claudia Stilinski, Dead Laura Hale, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, F/M, Good Peter Hale, I don't even know how that got there, Love and Monsters, Love and Monsters (2020) - Freeform, Love and Monsters AU, M/M, Mentioned Chris Argent/Peter Hale - Freeform, Mentioned Lydia Martin/Jordan Parrish, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, POV Stiles Stilinski, Post-Apocalypse, Stiles Stilinski Knows About Werewolves, Stiles Stilinski-centric, Stiles thinks Derek is a dog, Wolf Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZenaWA/pseuds/ZenaWA
Summary: After the 'end of the world' when Stiles lost both his parents and got stuck living in an underground bunker the only good thing about his life is Lydia. When she tells him she and her group of survivors are moving to a safer place he immediately packs his stuff and begins a journey to see her for what could possibly be the last time. And what wouldn't he do for true love, right?The problem is - Stiles has absolutely no survivor skills. As he makes his way across former California, he befriends a stray 'dog', meets a mother-son duo, (successfully) fights a couple of monsters, and maybe finally finds out what love is supposed to be about.Love and Monsters AU (because that movie deserves an AU) with a little twist.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, One-sided Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski - Relationship
Comments: 17
Kudos: 104





	I'd walk to the end of the world for you (and maybe fall in love for real on the way)

**Author's Note:**

> I own absolutely nothing, but please do not post this work anywhere without my permission.
> 
> Fair warning - English is not my first language, I've never been to an English speaking country, neither have I talked to any native speaker. So I apologize in advance for all and any mistakes I've made (I'm sure there's a lot of them). I'm trying my best. But do not hesitate to correct me.
> 
> This whole fic is basically me avoiding writing my bachelor's thesis.

Stiles had always thought of himself as a romantic.

That's probably what happens when you see your parents crazily in love with each other even after almost two decades of marriage. He could vividly remember the times when his mom and dad would dance around the living room, his ten-year-old self sitting on the couch, clapping excitedly every time a song ended.

And when he came home rushing after the first day of the third grade and announced that 'Lydia Martin would be to him what his mom is to his dad' both of his parents just smiled at each other.

It didn't matter that Lydia had persistently ignored his existence - he would do _literally_ anything for her.

And when in their sophomore year of high school _sh_ _e_ asked _him_ to prom, he nodded so hard, his head almost flew off. Once again, it didn't matter she only asked him because Jackson, the asshole, dumped her just two days before the prom night, and Stiles was the only 'normal' one without a date.

He still put in an enormous amount of effort to make the night the best of her life. It probably wasn't (who was he kidding, it _definitely_ wasn't), but she seemed to have a good time. In the end, it turned out so well she kissed him right out there on the dancefloor and even agreed to go on a date with him the next week. 

_Suck it up, Jackson._

After years and years of waiting, he was finally on her radar. It looked like things were finally looking up.

Of course, that was when things went to Hell.

The scientists had known about the asteroid's possible collision with the Earth for a while now. And it was no surprise the governments had united to find a solution and save the human race. What _was_ surprising, however, was the particular solution - taking almost every single missile and firing it at the asteroid. 

And even more surprisingly, it worked!

At least that's what they thought.

Then the changes came. Nobody knew why, but when some of the chemicals from the detonated missiles got back to the surface, cold-blooded animals started to mutate. They got bigger, uglier, nastier, and more murderous. And also hungrier. And apparently, humans were very eatable.

Which was why he was here now - in an underground bunker underneath the former Hale house, lying on a bunk bed while listening to Isaac and Allison going at it. They got together three weeks ago after more than 2 years of longíng looks and pining and the unresolved sexual tension between the two of them was getting resolved very loudly and almost every night.

All in all, it wouldn't be so bad - except for the fact that he was the only single one in their group of survivors.

Peter Hale and Chris Argent were the unofficial leaders of their little pack. (Ha, pack. Yeah, he knew about werewolves. It was kind of inevitable when there were two werewolves and two former werewolf hunters living in close quarters.)

Chris and Peter were always trying to be discreet about their relationship but, once again, their living space was pretty limited.

Then there was Ethan and Danny. The other wolf and the second human after Stiles. Also trying to keep it private. 

However, that couldn't be said about the third and fourth human. Well, to be honest, only the third one. Because it was Erica. The shy, quiet girl from his class who adopted the fuck-this-shit-we-might-die-tomorrow-let's-live-for-today attitude. And they could only watch as she paraded her relationship with Boyd around.

And that was it. Those were all the surviving people from their town, from Beacon Hills.

Well, not the only ones. There was one more.

Stiles dropped his feet down from the bunk bed and tiptoed to the radio room.

The whole bunker had been built by the Hales back before the public even knew there was any danger. But Talia Hale worked for the Department of Defense and got a warning in advance. While she obviously couldn't just tell the people of Beacon Hills, she and her family invested a lot of money to build the armored complex big enough to house at least 50 people for a couple of weeks. 

After the destruction of the asteroid, it seemed their effort would be in vain. But after the monsters appeared it came in handy.

It was awfully sad only one Hale had survived.

Stiles sat in the old chair that let out a loud squeaky noise. After making sure the door was closed he turned on the radio.

"This is BH24 calling LH17, come in."

But the only response he got was static.

He repeated the phrase couple of times while staring at the giant map drawn straight onto the wall. They had marked the positions and names of other camps, other groups of survivors. Some were unfortunately crossed out with bold red marker because their radios broke down or they were attacked by the monsters. They didn't know which one it was.

He signed. "LH17, this is BH24, come in, please."

The static noise was finally interrupted by loud swearing. "Bilinski, for the fuck's sake, stop it. It's like four fucking o'clock in the fucking morning. Don't you sleep in there?"

"Nice to hear you too, Coach," Stiles grinned. "You know me, I just can't live without your words. It warms my heart, really, right here," he tapped onto his chest, even though Coach couldn't see it.

"Yeah, I don't really believe that. I know you're just calling to talk to her. No need to pretend otherwise."

"Well, now that you've mentioned it, is she there?"

Coach growled. "Of course she's here, I woke her up as soon as I heard your freakishly annoying voice coming through the radio. I have absolutely no intention to spend more time talking to you than necessary." There was a moment of silence on the other side. "She's just taking her time, you know how she is." Stiles could hear a slapping sound and knew Lydia finally got to the radio.

"Stop talking bullshit, Bobby, or next time I'll leave you to talk to Stiles for an hour." He heard her sit down. "Hey, Stiles. How have you been?"

Even at ass o'clock in the morning in the midst of apocalypse, she was incredibly polite. Oh, how he loved her.

"I'm great, thanks. Just couldn't sleep, you know how it is, a lot of people in such little space, it just gets too loud sometimes."

"Yeah, I can definitely understand that." The smile in her voice was evident.

They spoke quietly for what felt like hours. He told her all about the letters he wrote to her, and about Roscoe the cow who he had named after his mother's jeep and about dozen other little things that'd happened since the last time they spoke.

"Listen, Stiles, it's not easy for me to say this, but I might not be able to get to the radio for a few days, maybe even weeks." Stiles could practically feel his heart stop. "We got some word from the camp on the coast next to ours. A group of people came to them on a yacht and took them to a safe place. We haven't heard from them ever since, so they must have left."

Stiles sat in the chair, gaping, completely silent probably for the first time in his life. And then the verbal diarrhea came out. "What, what, what do you mean you might not be able to get to the radio? And you haven't heard from them? How long has it been? Because I will _not_ survive not talking to you for more than a few days!"

"Stiles," she tried to sound comforting, "I know, it's not ideal, but it's going to be fine. Okay?"

"But I haven't given you the letters," he objected weakly.

She sighed and launched into an explanation, trying to comfort him, but he didn't really hear her.

"What if I come to see you before you leave?"

She stopped mid-sentence. "What? Stiles, no! You can't just walk here, not on the surface. It's way too dangerous."

"It's not that far," he said with his eyes trained on the map, already planning the route. "It's like, 50 miles at most, I can definitely do that."

She tried to protest, really firmly, practically ordering him to stay put, but he had already set his mind.

"Lydia, I'm gonna come to see you, okay? It will definitely take me at least 4 days, but I will get there. I have to get ready, pack some things, but I'll see you soon, yeah? Bye!" he could hear her inhale to start to lecture him again, but he already switched the radio off.

* * *

"I know you've already decided," Peter hugged him firmly and patted him on the back, "but I still have to tell you. You're an idiot. Absolute, complete idiot."

"Thanks, Peter, that means a lot," he smiled faintly.

The next hug was from Chris, but this one was shorter. "We drew you a map." He handed him a folded paper. "You're small and relatively fast, take advantage of it. Just run and hide. Don't try to fight. We all know you can't aim for the life of you," he gestured towards the crossbow Stiles had attached to his backpack. Stiles knew that in Chris' words that meant 'Be safe and careful.'

After another round of hugs, he climbed up the ladder, and for the first time in seven years stood in the sunlight. The hatch originally led to the Hales' basement, but the house had been leveled to the ground by a giant salamander-mutant who attacked them about four years ago.

He looked around and for a moment he just breathed. It felt so different from the filtered air in the underground bunker. 

Then he unfolded the map Chris gave him. 

It consisted mainly of bold red signs DON'T YOU DARE GO THERE and MONSTER'S LAIR. There was also a thin blue line from a cross with BH24 to a cross with LH17.

That was it. That was where he was supposed to go.

"Okay," he whispered encouragingly to himself. "Let's do this."

* * *

Stiles had been walking for a couple of hours without encountering any monsters, so he counted that as a win. The road led him among old ruins of houses. Noone had been here for a long time and it felt like walking through a ghost town.

The whole time he had been walking, the only sound he could hear was the rustling of the leaves in the wind, but the moment he stood between the ruined buildings, it all fell silent.

Stiles gulped. There could be anything hiding inside.

 _No time like the present,_ he thought, determined, and stepped forward.

The noise of the wailing wind grew louder, and so did the noise of his heartbeat. He was sure all the monsters around could hear it and would soon try to eat him.

He wasn't wrong about that - one moment he was cautiously walking, and the next one one of his legs was wrapped by a slimy tongue. He was almost petrified with fear, slowly turning to the right to see a giant, fat, goo-covered toad staggering from a small pond.

When the monster tugged its long tongue towards its mouth, Stiles fell to the ground, his head crashing hard with the pavement.

After a short moment when he felt like throwing up, his hands shot out to try and grab onto something, but there was nothing, absolutely nothing that didn't slip from his hold.

All of a sudden, there was a loud barking noise from one of the houses. Stiles turned his head to look at the source of the noise, but his vision was so out of focus all he could distinguish was a fast-moving black blur.

The blur moved swiftly towards the tongue that was still wrapped around his leg. Slowly, Stiles' vision cleared enough that he could see that the blur was actually a dog. Big ass black dog, who definitely wasn't _just_ a dog, because dogs did _not_ get this big. Or had the other animals started to mutate too? Would humans be next?

Sharp pain yanked him out of his thoughts. The tongue finally released his limb, but evidently, there were some very sharp pins or teeth or whatever at the end of that thing, and they left deep scratches all over his calf. Still, the adrenaline was enough that he managed to push himself upright and start running away. 

Thankfully the toad's legs were not strong enough to truly lift his enormous body from the ground and follow him.

He ran past one of the houses when the blur - dog, it was a dog - appeared again, grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie in its teeth, and dragged him inside. It didn't let go, not until they were both sitting against a wall of a small two-bed bedroom.

Stiles tried to calm his breathing. This was the first time he had run into a monster since the day he left Beacon Hills and it was _freaking terrifying._ And this one wasn't even fast! What would happen if there were fast ones?!

He could feel himself slipping into a panic attack when something suddenly licked his face. 

The dog, it was the dog. 

The dog who had literally saved his life. At least he thought he did, he wasn't really sure about the details, but he was certain he saw the dog biting into the monster's tongue.

"Thank you," he whispered. The dog tilted its head. "You know, for saving me. Out there. And now, from the panic attack. You are my hero, dude. You should get a medal. Or at least a snack. I'd offer you something, but I don't really have any dog-friendly food. At least I don't think I do."

The dog stared at him with his tongue sticking out as if he were the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

"Man, that was crazy," Stiles ran a hand over his face. "I know it's kind of hard to believe but I haven't met a monster for like, I don't know, seven years? Maybe six, it's kinda hard to tell." He looked at the dog and then around the room. "Do you live here? Are you here all alone?" The dog huffed. "Yeah, me too, buddy. They all paired off in my bunker and the love of my life is in another one, so I decided to go see her. Crazy, huh? What a man is capable of doing for a true love." He was pretty sure the dog rolled its eyes. "Hey, don't tell me there isn't some lovely lady for you out there. Or is it lovely she-dog? I know the scientific term for a she-dog is a bitch, but that's just mean, to ask if there's a bitch out there for you. That's just cruel. So she-dog it is. Wait, I don't even know if you're a guy. Don't worry, I'm not curious enough to actually look. Are you even a dog?" he narrowed his eyes and looked the black animal up and down. "You look like you're a part wolf. But you haven't eaten me yet, so you can't actually be a wolf. Or you could be a werewolf. I can tell you, I'm sure you can keep a secret. Two of the guys I live in a bunker with are werewolves, but they can't actually shift into wolves like the movies and books said they could. They just get really hairy. And once a month really irritable. But at least it's the guys and not the girls. Then we would have to deal with the irritable mood twice a month. Allison would probably handle it just fine, but Erica? Phew, Erica would make one hell of a werewolf. Could you imagine? I know you really can't because you don't actually know her but-"

His neverending rant was interrupted by a loud bark.

Stiles paused. "I'm talking too much and too loud, right?" he whispered.

He could feel the dog's eyebrows judging him.

"Okay, but it's not like you can tell me much." He reached towards the dog's neck. "Do you have a collar or something? So I would know what to call you, you know?"

At that the dog turned around and trotted to the other side of the room, tugging something from a pile of blankets. Stiles watched him as he cautiously stepped forward and placed the something in his hand.

It was a dark-blue string with little cubes with a letter engraved into each of them, creating the word DERBEAR.

"Derbear?" Stiles asked, his eyebrows very high on his forehead. "That's your name?" The dog huffed. "Well, I have to give it to whoever had named you, you certainly do look a little like a bear. Still more like a wolf, but Derwolf just doesn't have the same ring to it." Derbear barred his teeth. "You know what? I'm just gonna call you Der. That way we don't have to argue about the animal part, okay?" 

He didn't get any reaction, so he took that as an agreement. 

"Okay, then. We should probably get going because the frog-" He abruptly stopped. "I didn't even ask you if you want to go with me. You're probably waiting here for someone to come back for you, right? Okay, uhm, I'm just, well, I'm just gonna go. But like, you can definitely come with me. If you want." 

With those words pouring from his mouth Stiles stood up and walked out of the ruined house. For some reason, it felt like he just lost a friend. Which was just absurd.

Outside he checked the surroundings for any more frogs or toads or whatever that thing was, but everything was quiet.

So he walked further among the houses, getting closer to his goal.

And when after a couple of miles he caught a glimpse of a black blur behind him, he couldn't help but smile.

* * *

"What do you have there, Der?"

Stiles didn't notice it at first, but the dog had his jaw clenched around a piece of fabric. He sat back on his haunches and stared up at him while Stiles squatted in front of him, holding his hand out.

Der reluctantly lowered the cloth into his palm. 

The man held it in front of him - it looked like a girl's shirt. "I guess this is something from your family?" Der huffed. "I can carry it in my backpack, if you want. So it wouldn't get dirty. It will be safe, I promise."

The dog's pale eyes followed his movement as he carefully folded the shirt and placed it into his backpack.

* * *

"Okay, I do _not_ want to stress you out, Der, but I think we got lost."

Stiles looked over the edge of the map and could _hear_ the dog thinking 'Yeah, no shit'. 

The boy made a face at him, then set off in the direction he thought they should be going.

"I know I'm not the best guide in the world, but Chris doesn't have an artistic bone in his body, so it's no surprise I have some problems finding my way around," he kept mumbling under his breath. "I mean, seriously, look at this. The orientation points are 'don't go there', 'avoid at all cost' and 'watch out for the monsters'. He didn't mark a single mountain, river, lake, forest-"

The ground under his feet suddenly disappeared and he fell into a deep hole right onto his butt.

He nearly broke down. "Or a freaking hole!" he screamed. 

Logically, he knew Chris had no way to know there was a hole, but he was just _so angry!_

After a minute of fuming, he finally calmed down and looked up at Der whose head was sticking out over the hole's edge.

"I don't suppose you can give me a hand?" he asked rhetorically.

The dog barked and ran away.

"Great, awesome," he growled. When he looked around the slightly illuminated pit, he saw there were some opening in its surface. "Okay, I can get out of here on my own, it's fine. I'm just gonna hold onto this, and this," he grabbed the edges of those openings and pulled himself upwards.

He managed to get few feet off above the bottom of the pit when he saw a movement right past where he was holding onto the edge. 

There was something in the hole! He looked around - and there were a lot of identical holes all around him!

"Shit," he uttered.

Second later he was falling back towards the bottom and there were thick, opaque, at least 5 feet long, worm-like creatures coming from the openings. 

He knew he had to think fast, but before he even had a chance to take a breath and try to calm down, there was a rope hitting his head. He looked up in surprise.

"Come on, grip onto the rope, we'll pull you out!"

That was a woman's voice. Did Der _actually_ get him help? If so, he was never letting him go.

Stiles quickly grasped the rope with his hands, making sure it wouldn't slip from his hold. A moment later he was being pulled upwards. He could still feel the creatures hitting his body, but thankfully their skin was slippery, so they didn't actually hurt him.

When he emerged from the hole, his eyes were momentarily blinded by the light. 

He could hear two voices, male and female, shouting something about 'getting the hell back' and then counting down from five. When the voice male voice reached zero, there was a loud explosion and then a high-pitched whoop.

Stiles lifted his head to get a better look at his saviors when parts of monster goo landed all over his upper body and face. Apparently, he didn't crawl far enough.

"This is disgusting," he grimaced. It took a lot of effort not to throw up.

Then Der was there, pushing the chunks away from Stiles with his snout.

"You okay there, kid?"

At the sound of the voice, Stiles looked up. 

At the edge of the monster-goo-covered area stood two people - a slender woman in her late forties and a young man probably around his age with a slightly crooked jaw. They both had the same dark curly hair, so probably relatives. Perhaps mother and son?

"Yeah, I'm good," he stood up. "Thanks for saving my ass."

The man shook his head. "You are an idiot. Why would you get into Sand-Gobblers' nest?"

"I fell in there, it wasn't exactly on purpose." Stiles frowned. "Sand-Gobblers? That's what they're called?"

"Yeah, kid, you've got a lot to learn if you want to survive out here," the woman scoffed. "What's your name?"

"Stiles. Stiles Stilinski," he reached his hand out. 

She gave it a firm shake. "I'm Melissa. This is my son Scott," she gestured towards the man who lifted his hand up in a greeting. "Why are you out here, Stiles? Shouldn't you be tucked away safely in a bunker?"

"I mean, I was," he shrugged. "But I decided to visit my girl. Well, not really _my_ girl, she isn't mine. We just went to the prom together. She actually kissed me, and we were supposed to go on a date right before, uhm, you know, right before the monsters. And the last time we spoke over the radio, she told me they'll probably be leaving their place, and I just really wanted to see her, so I packed my stuff-"

"You seriously intent to get yourself killed just so you could see her again?" Scott snorted. "Talk about dedication."

Melissa cuffed him on his head. "Oh hush, Scott. Just because my relationship with your father didn't work out doesn't mean all relationships are like that. What Stiles is doing is incredibly romantic. Also incredibly stupid. Do you have _any_ idea what lives up here?"

"Well, not really," he admitted. "But, you guys are up here too."

"Yeah, but we are better equipped for this than you are," Scott smirked, gesturing towards Stiles' crossbow sticking out of his backpack.

"It's not about what you have but about knowing how to use it," Stiles argued.

"I bet you have absolutely no idea how to use it, you look like-"

"Boys!" Melissa cut them off. "What do you say we get away from here and find a place for the night? The sun will be going down soon."

"Yeah, sure." Stiles looked down at his four-legged companion. "What do you say, Der? Do we stay with them for the night?" The dog huffed.

"Wait, that's your dog?"

Stiles glanced up at Scott - the other man looking at Der, practically with hearts in his eyes. 

"Uhm, I wouldn't say he's mine. We met just yesterday," he shrugged.

"It's useless to explain, kid." He could hear the glee in Melissa's voice. "You already lost him."

* * *

"So, what's the deal with Scott and animals?" Stiles asked as he sat next to Melissa on the ground near the campfire.

She smiled. "Well, before the monsters and everything, he wanted to become a vet. He was really dedicated to it. Had a part-time job in a clinic, read all the books about animals he could get his hands on." She sighed. "When we had to leave our home, he had to leave his dream behind, but that didn't really stop him from trying to befriend every animal we met. But after a while, all of them got killed, or they hid somewhere. That's the reason why he's so excited about your dog. Though I don't think his behavior is very dog-like," she admitted, looking at Scott, who was dangling a piece of jerky in front of Der's mouth. The dog completely ignored him and just kept staring right past the piece of meat at Stiles, his expression clearly stating 'Look at the shit I have to go through'.

Stiles faintly smiled. "Yeah, you definitely got a point there."

Der stood up and marched over to sit next to Stiles, hitting Scott in the face with his tail in the process.

Stiles lightly patted his head. "Hey, dude. Is Scott's attention too much for you?" He grinned at the dog's bark. "Yeah. So," he turned back to Melissa, "where are you headed? Why aren't you in a bunker?"

She gave him a smile. "We're heading north, for the mountains. We were told the cold and the elevation should keep most of the monsters away. Originally, there were more of us, eleven, to be exact. But we got split up after encountering a Queen Sand-Gobler. I have no idea whether someone from our group survived. I just hope that if they did, they keep going so we can meet in the mountains."

Stiles frowned. "What's a Queen Sand-Gobbler? You said that those were Sand-Gobblers in the hole, right?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "But those were workers. The Queen is way bigger and way more murderous. It has this distinctive thing on her back, it looks like a dorsal fin. She moves underground, so the fin is actually the only thing you can see. And she can feel vibrations through the ground, so your only chance to survive is to just stand still, don't move, don't breathe, and hope she won't find you."

"Okay," Stiles gulped. "Let's just hope I won't run into her. 'Cause standing still is not really my strength."

Melissa sneered. "Yeah, I can definitely tell. Anyway," she reached for her backpack and tugged out a blanket, "we should get some sleep. We have to get up early. If you're heading to the coast, we can walk together tomorrow and probably split up by the next afternoon. Unless you want to go with us to the mountains, of course." She fixed her eyes on him. "You'd be safer there."

"No," he shook his head. "Thank you, but I gave Lydia my promise that I'd come to see her."

"Okay." Thankfully, she didn't try to argue with him. "Good night, then."

"Good night," he answered as he wrapped his own blanket tighter around his body.

The last thing he heard before passing out was Scott's own quiet 'good night' and Der lying down behind him, his body-heat seeping through his back.

* * *

"You have to learn how to shoot, at least a little bit," Scott said as he drew a practice target on a cactus leaf with a black marker. "It will significantly increase your chances of survival, you know?"

"Yeah, you do remember the part when I said I can't aim for the life of me?" Stiles scratched at the back of his neck. Der was sitting by his side, his head tilted up, looking at him expectantly. 

"You've repeated it at least twenty times. Trust me, I'm aware," Scott laughed. "Just try. You have to start somewhere."

"Who taught you how to shoot?" Stiles asked as he placed the crossbow on his shoulder, slightly narrowing his eyes to focus on the target.

"My dad." Scott's voice was void of any emotions. "He worked for the FBI and taking a ten-year-old to a shooting range was his great idea of a father-son bonding experience. I used to hate it but now it's come in handy."

Stiles breathed out and fired the arrow. It didn't even reach the cactus. He let out a frustrated sigh. "See? Can't aim for the life of me."

Der took the fallen arrow between his teeth and brought it back to him.

Stiles patted him on the head. "Thanks, buddy." He straightened his back and tried to aim again. "Is he still around? Your dad?"

"No," Scott shook his head. "He and mom were going through a divorce when the monsters came. The moment it was clear the things would change, mom packed our stuff and half of the arsenal he had at home, and we were out of there. Haven't seen him ever since."

"That's where you got the grenades?"

"That's where we got the grenades," the other man nodded. "Now, try again. Don't think about it too much. But concentrate on why you're doing this. Why you're shooting at the monsters. Because they want to kill you, and you have to protect not only yourself, but also the ones closest to you." He corrected his stance. "Okay. Do it. Breath. And then shoot."

Stiles inhaled deeply a couple of times, feeling his heartbeat slowing down. 

_You have to protect those closest to you. Imagine if one of them went after Peter. Or Allison. Or Der. And it's up to you to protect them._

He breathed in for the last time, and with an exhale, let the arrow fly.

"Yeah!" he could hear Scott whoop loudly, his arms up in the air. "That's what I'm talking about, man! Good job."

Stiles didn't precisely hit the target, but the arrow grazed the outer circle. Which definitely counted as a win in his eyes. And evidently in Scott's and Der's too. The latter was excitedly yipping, running around the cactus.

 _Oh yeah,_ he thought, smiling widely. _I can definitely do this._

* * *

"So, I guess this is where we part our ways," Stiles said theatrically.

They were standing on a lookout. Stiles could already see hints of blue on the horizon - he was getting closer to the coast, closer to Lydia with each step.

Melissa squeezed him so hard he thought he stopped breathing for a moment. "Be careful, okay, Stiles?" She lovingly patted his cheek. "And say hi to Lydia for me."

"I certainly will," he replied. "She'll want to know who kept me alive out there."

"You're sure you don't want to go with us?" Scott asked for what felt like the hundredth time as he hugged him.

The other man clapped him on his back. "I'm sure, dude. Thanks for the offer, though."

"I wanted to give you this," Scott reached his hand out, holding a grenade. "You've still got a long journey ahead of you, and you're gonna need it more than us. When you pull the pin, count to five. Not to four, not to six. Five. And don't forget to run and hide so the pressure wave doesn't hurt you."

"Thanks, man." He stuffed the grenade into his backpack. "I hope we'll see each other again. It was really nice meeting you."

"You too, Stiles," Melissa waved, already walking to the forest path. "Take care!"

"Bye, Stiles!" Scott shouted as he ran after his mother. "Bye, Der!"

The dog barked loudly, saying goodbye in his own way.

They both stood quietly, watching the mother-son duo gradually disappear among the trees.

"So," Stiles sighed and looked down at Der, who was already staring at him. "It's just you and me again, buddy."

* * *

They spend the night hidden between what probably used to be a cabin in the woods but was reduced to three barely standing walls. Without a fire, Stiles was eternally grateful for Der lying next to him.

Around lunchtime Stiles' stomach rumbled loudly.

He wanted to save as much food as possible, so he was looking around the forest for something to eat.

"Oh, berries," he cheered when he saw a bush heavy with small red fruit.

He reached his hand to pick one, but suddenly Der was there, tugging him away.

"What are you doing? Stiles frowned at the dog. "I'm hungry. And unlike you, I can't just catch some squirrel."

But Der pulled harder and even began to growl at the bush.

"Oh, wait." Stiles suddenly understood his unusual behavior. "These are not edible, are they?"

The dog finally released his pant leg and huffed, as if to say 'Took you a long time to figure it out, you idiot'.

"Thanks," Stiles smiled at him widely. "I think I should stick to my own food, huh?"

Sometime in the early afternoon, they came across another grouping of partially destroyed buildings. Stiles was keeping the one-sided conversation going (although Der sometimes huffed or barked) while the dog trotted next to him, sometimes running away but always returning back to Stiles' side.

The sound of the man's voice abruptly vanished when he felt some vibrations under his feet. 

He came to a halt, swiftly checking his surroundings. Der was nowhere to be seen, having left to look for something in one of the houses.

The trembling of the ground only grew stronger. 

That was when he saw it - a dark-brown, membrane-like fin was forcing its way right towards him.

The Queen.

_Shit, shit, shit._

_Okay, what did Melissa say? Stay put, don't move, don't breathe._

He tried to force his rapidly beating heart to slow down, but he knew it was a vain effort.

And that was when the worst thing in the entire universe happened - Der barked.

Stiles' head shot in the direction and in the peripheral, he could see the fin turning that way too.

As soon as the fin moved forward, he gave up all pretense of keeping calm. "Der!" he shouted, sprinting towards the dog who stood in a doorway. "Der, run!"

He could see the moment the dog's eyes widened as he started running away from the monster behind Stiles.

They ran for what felt like hours but was probably less than half a minute.

Stiles jumped over a fallen tree trunk, but one of his shoelaces caught on a branch, and he fell down onto his face. Frantically getting up, he looked around - Der was nowhere to be found.

"Der?" he whisper shouted, not daring to make a loud noise even though the Queen was already on his heels.

The dog's head appeared from inside a hollow stump a few steps to his right.

Stiles carefully lowered his backpack to the ground - it was partially open and half the stuff would probably fall out, but he wouldn't be able to fit inside the hollow with it - and as silently as possible shuffled over to sit next to Der's side.

The two of them were shaking, both from exertion and from fear. Stiles hugged Der's heaving body against his chest, hiding his face in the soft black fur.

He could feel something sliding against the stump, the noise sounding slimy. It crept closer and closer - but then stopped and disappeared.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Stiles twisted his neck to look out to see if the Queen was still there, waiting for them. He didn't see her, but he wasn't willing to get out just yet.

Turning back to whisper something to Der, he stopped when he saw the dog's consternated gaze locked onto something. He followed in the direction of his sight and froze.

The shirt Der gave him shortly after they had met, the shirt he swore to keep safe, the shirt that was probably the only thing the dog had that used to belong to his owners - it was lying a couple of feet away from the backpack, the wind blowing it away very close to a river. Stiles didn't even notice the river before.

"Der," he spoke softly, fairly certain he knew what the dog was about to do. "Der, please don't do it. I know it's so very important to you, but we don't know if the Queen is still out there. She could be waiting for us to get out. Please, don't do it, just wait, please," he begged.

But as anticipated, he didn't listen. The look in his eyes as he watched the wind grow stronger was practically heart-breaking.

Stiles knew it would be useless to try to hold Der still, but he tried anyway though he was no match for the dog's strength.

He quickly untangled himself from his crunched position, running after Der, who was already taking the shirt between his teeth. But the moment Stiles set his feet outside the hiding place, immediately there was a new wave of vibrations under the soles of his shoes.

_Fuck this shit._

Stiles quickly grabbed his backpack, throwing it onto his back. "Get out of here, you stupid, idiotic dog!" he screamed, turning to look for a way to run in when he caught a glimpse of the grenade Scott had gifted him.

He promptly snatched it off the ground and watched as the fin moved closer. His one and only thought was that this was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever done.

Right after that, the Queen finally emerged from the ground - her mouth was a giant hole full of short, razor-sharp teeth surrounded by slimy tentacles of various lengths. It was opened wide and presented the perfect target for what he was trying to do. He pulled the safety pin out, threw it in the general direction of the monster, and ran towards the river.

_Five._

He ran as fast as he could.

_Four._

He could almost feel the tentacles touching his back.

_Three._

He drew in a deep breath.

_Two._

He jumped headfirst into the river.

_One._

He waited.

The pressure wave tossed him hard from side to side. Shortly after, the river surface was penetrated by falling parts of the blown-up Queen.

Stiles came up to the surface, greedily inhaling air into his lungs.

He looked around - a large area of the shore was completely destroyed by the explosion. Turning to the other side of the river, he felt a wave of anger.

Der was standing on the shore, the _freaking shirt_ lying by his feet. He was looking at Stiles with puppy eyes. They worked the times when he wanted more food or to snuggle close to Stiles. But not this time.

"What the fuck, Der!" he yelled. "Are you out of your fucking mind? You almost got us killed!"

His loud scream was interrupted by a sharp pain in his arm, followed immediately by another one on the left side of his torso. 

"Ouch!" he whined. 

As he swam towards the shallows, the pain spread out almost all over his body.

When he finally stood up and looked at his arms to inspect the source of the pain, he froze in shock - to his forearm were attached two leeches. At least they looked like leeches, _except they were more than five inches long._

He shrieked, quickly yanking the creatures off of his arm.

Then he looked down at his shirt in horror. Already knowing what he was about to see, he reluctantly unbuttoned the shirt, the buttons slipping between his wet, trembling fingers.

Being right sucked in cases like this.

He methodically removed each and every one of the little monsters, hurling them as far from him as possible.

"Did I get all of them?" he asked, his eyes tightly closed shut.

Der's huff was of the agreeing type.

"Okay," he peeled his eyes open. The dog was crouched, looking at him like a child waiting to be scolded - and Stiles couldn't help but start screaming again. "You are an absolute idiot, Der! If Scott hadn't given me the grenade, I would be _fucking dead now_! I don't get how this fucking shirt can be more important than my life." He grabbed the cloth from the ground and waved it in front of the dog's face. "The stunt you just pulled almost cost me my life. And for what? For a _fucking piece of shirt?_ "

Der yanked it out of his hold and raced further into the forest.

"Yeah, run away!" Stiles screamed after him. "It's not like I need you. I can survive just fine without you, you stupid dog!"

Right after the words left his mouth, he knew it wasn't true. Der had become his friend, and even though they met just a couple of days ago, it felt like much longer.

Stiles stood on the shore, his shirt still hanging open, his arms folded over his chest stubbornly.

When Der didn't come back after ten minutes, he let out an annoyed sigh, grabbed his soaked backpack, and set out into the woods.

For some time, he felt quite good walking on his own in silence was definitely different from the last few days. 

But then his legs occasionally didn't lift properly, or his balance was faltering. Gradually his body stopped listening to him altogether.

He slumped down into the mud, his back getting scratched by rough bark. 

His eyelids grew heavier with each second, and there was nothing he could do with that.

Right before the world turned black, he felt hands on the sides of his face and saw a pair of pale green eyes looking at him in worry.

* * *

He stirred awake an unknown amount of time later.

His head was still aching, but when he tried to wiggle his fingers and toes, they were doing precisely what he wanted them to do. 

His shirt was off, but he was nestled deep into a pile of blankets. There was a pleasant warmth spreading through his body.

"Oh, you're awake."

Stiles' eyes shot open at the sound of a mechanical voice.

In the armchair, next to the couch he was lying on, sat a robot. Its body was painted a soft blue, and in the place where a face should be there was a display with a simple smiley face.

"Who are you?" Stiles asked, sitting up while keeping the blankets close to his body.

"My name is A1an," the robot answered.

"Nice to meet you, A1an." Stiles took in their surroundings. They were in a scarcely furnished room, with only the sofa, armchair, a small coffee-table and a dresser. The dark beige wallpaper had peeled off in some places. "Uhm, how did I get here?"

"Derek brought you in. He said he found you in the forest and was looking for a place to keep you safe."

Stiles looked at him skeptically, narrowing his eyes. "You _talked_ with my dog?"

"I thought you said I wasn't your dog," a deep rumble sounded from the doorway.

Stiles swung around so fast his head began to spin a little.

In the entryway stood a tall, handsome man with dark hair and a beard, dressed in the most hideous orange-and-blue striped shirt at least two sizes too small for him and grey sweatpants.

The man stepped forward and slowly lowered himself onto the coffee-table right in front of Stiles, who just stared at him dumbfounded.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, reaching his hand out to gently touch Stiles' forehead.

The younger man flinched away from the contact. "Do I know you?"

"I'd certainly hope so," he smirked. "After all, you spent the last three days trying to talk my ears off."

"Der?" Stiles whispered. 

He flinched a little. "It's Derek, actually." He lifted up his hand to show him the blue string with letters tied around his wrist. "My younger sister made me this when she was around seven years old. Derbear used to be my nickname she and my other sister had used."

Stiles nodded a couple of times, taking the time to sort out his thoughts. "Wait," he paused. "You _are_ a werewolf. Oh my god, how is that even possible? I thought none of you could actually turn into a _wolf_."

Derek shrugged. "Not many of us can. It's more common among born wolves, and even then, there's no guarantee they will be able to shift fully."

"Okay, that's good to know." Stiles gestured around the room. "Now explain to me how we'd got here."

"Well," the werewolf leaned back onto his arms. "When I found you in the woods, you were already pretty out of it. I suppose it was because of the leeches or whatever those were. They must have pumped some kind of venom into your blood."

"I figured as much," Stiles confirmed.

"Your body temperature was very low, you were almost freezing, so I took you here. It was the first relatively safe and warm place I could find. A1an here," he gestured towards the robot who watched them talk with great interest, "was turned off when we got here, but I woke him up and told him to look after you. He's only got power for like an hour and a half, but-"

"One hour, twenty-one minutes and forty seconds," the android amended.

"Yeah, that," Derek heaved a sigh. "So he looked after you while I grabbed myself some clothes and went out looking for an antidote. Scott said something about fern roots working against most types of toxins, so I tried it, and it worked." He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "After that, I left you in A1an's care again and went back out to look for some clothes for both of us, food, and other stuff we might need." He nodded towards the pile next to the couch. "There should definitely be something that'll fit you."

"And have you also found something to wear yourself?" he couldn't stop the words coming out of his mouth.

Derek looked down at his clothes, then gave Stiles one of the most annoyed looks of all time. "I didn't really have a lot of time to think about what to wear with the saving-your-life thing going on, you know? I just put on the first thing I could find. It was this or me running around naked. And that would probably freak you out way more than just me in a human form."

"Yeah, definitely." Stiles shrugged, smirking a little. "Still, those are really not your colors."

"Well, thank you," Derek retorted. He got up from the coffee-table and rummaged through the little mountain of clothing he had collected. Stiles watched with a great deal of maliciousness as the striped shirt rode high up, almost to the middle of the man's chest. "I'm gonna go change. Pick out something for yourself and then come outside." He clutched some pieces of clothing to his front, these ones in much more muted colors.

Stiles acknowledged him with a nod, his eyes following the man as he disappeared into the next room.

* * *

By the time Stiles changed into his new clothes - a plain grey t-shirt, a plaid overshirt quite similar to his destroyed one, and a pair of dark wash jeans - Derek and A1an were both sitting outside with a few logs already ablaze between them.

Derek looked up at him, and, at that moment, any doubts Stiles had previously had about Derek being 'his dog' had vanished. Not that he had any, but even if he did, they'd gone now.

He would recognize the pale, jade-green eyes anywhere. They held his gaze for a couple of seconds before the older man straightened up.

Gone was the awful orange-and-blue shirt and gray sweatpants. Instead, a dusty blue henley and black jeans had replaced them. They suited the werewolf so much better and highlighted his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and muscular thighs. 

Derek gestured towards the two cans of beans. "You can eat both of them. I know it's not much, but most of the houses around had been completely cleaned out."

"Thanks," Stiles nodded, settling onto a blanket he had brought with himself outside. "By the way, I wanted to apologize for the screaming by the river. I shouldn't have done that. I understand that the shirt is important to you, perhaps it's your sister's?" he squinted.

"My older sister's, yeah," Derek confirmed. He was staring into the flames, not looking at Stiles. "It's the last thing I have that holds some remnants of her scent. And I'm sorry too," he added, finally glancing up. "I should have just waited like you said I should. And I also shouldn't have run away after."

"You came back," the other man brushed it off. "And saved my life."

He smiled faintly. "Yeah, I guess I did. But you saved mine, so I guess we're even."

Stiles didn't say anything, but he smiled, digging into the beans. "Oh my god." They were just warm enough, and after two days of eating stale bread and the weird stuff Melissa and Scott seemed to favor, they tasted like heaven. "Oh my god, this is so good," he moaned. "Not as good as curly fries from the diner at the fifth, of course, but I don't even remember what they taste like anymore."

"Curly fries?" Derek asked, tossing a log into the fire.

"Yeah, man," he smiled with his mouth full. "You know, the gift from the heavens in the form of golden, crunchy goodness? Perfect for dipping in a milkshake. Not the vanilla or strawberry, it has to be a chocolate- Hey, what's with that face?" he paused when he saw Derek's expression turn into one of pure and utter disgust.

The man shook his head in disbelief. "Curly fries dipped in a milkshake? Are you serious now?"

"So what," Stiles wrinkled his forehead. "It was my thing. I miss it. Don't tell me you don't miss anything about the old world."

"I do miss quite a few things." He barely heard Derek's voice over the crackling of the fire.

"Yeah?" 

The man silently nodded.

Stiles put the can od beans down. "Your sisters?" he asked softly.

Derek nodded again, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. "The shirt and the bracelet are the last things I have from my whole family. We got split shortly after the animals had started to mutate. It's been just me and my older sister ever since then. We looked for any of our family, but we didn't find anyone." A single teardrop slid down his face. He quickly wiped it off. "About six months before you found me, Laura got killed by this giant centipede thing. She was torn in half. After I buried her, I shifted and just stayed that way. It's easier to deal with strong emotions because the world part experiences it differently. In a way, you most probably saved my life when you'd found me," he looked up. "Otherwise, I'd just stay like that forever."

Stiles gave him a faint smile, then gathered his blanket and moved to sit closer to Derek's side. "Tell me about her?" he asked with caution.

"About Laura?" he looked at him in surprise.

"Laura or your other sister, the younger one?" Stiles waited for a confirmation from Derek. He nodded. "What was her name?"

"Cora," he said hoarsely, then cleared his throat. "She'd probably be around your age. They were both so very beautiful and strong. And they made my life a living hell together."

"Hence the nickname?"

"Hence the nickname," he agreed. "I used to hate it when I was younger. Laura originally said it should be Derbunny because my front teeth were too big but Cora said I was cuddly like her teddy bear."

Stiles couldn't help but snort at that. "They sound exactly like what I was told about sisters."

"What about you? Do you have any siblings?"

"No," he shook his head. "It was just me and my mom and dad. Dad was the sheriff of our town, mom worked at the hospital." He had already told Derek all of this during their walk, but for some reason, it felt different talking to the man than talking to the dog. "Considering their jobs, they were in the first-line when shit went down. I went with my mom to help in the hospital because they were short on staff. And after the hospital was destroyed, we drove around in our jeep and helped where we could." He twisted his hands in his lap. "Dad died about two months after the mutation had started. And it wasn't even because of a monster. He and some of his deputies were trying to get everyone to leave as calmly as possible when this asshole came out of his house and started shooting because he didn't want to leave his home. Even though they weren't even forcing him to leave. Dad was shot three times right through his chest. Died on the spot." He could feel his eyes tearing up, just like Derek's a little while ago. "I lost mom a couple of weeks later. I've already got out of the jeep, she was still sitting in the driver's seat when this giant thing surfaced from under the road and just stamped onto the car. It all happened so fast. I don't really remember anything after that. When I got out of the shock, I was in the bunker. One of the guys, Chris, said there was nothing they could've done."

Derek reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." He dried his cheeks with the hem of his overshirt. "It doesn't get any easier, huh?"

The corner of the werewolf's mouth twitched as he shook his head. "No."

They sat in silence for a long while, the only noise the blowing wind and the occasional creak of wood in the distance.

"One time, when I was ten, dad let me sit on his lap as he drove his cruiser." Stiles kept his gaze locked onto his nails peeling off the label on the can. "It was one of the coolest things in my life. I've wanted to be a cop like him ever since."

Derek didn't move, didn't even acknowledge Stiles' confession. Then he said: "Laura once made me skip school. I liked going there, liked learning stuff, but she said I'd never get someone to date me if I wasn't cool, and I wouldn't be cool if I didn't skip school at least once. I felt so guilty I stayed in the library the next day until the closing hour."

Stiles smirked at the idea of a young Derek sitting in the library all alone, refusing to leave. "Two days before I started my first year of high school, my mom attempted to give me a haircut. I was so bad dad had to shave it all off, so I went to school with a buzzcut."

Derek grinned at that. "When I first decided to grow out my stubble, both my sisters sneaked into my room at night and shaved it off. But not all of it, just one half." Stiles burst out laughing. "I was late for school because I had to get the other half off and they had hid all of the razors."

They went on, taking turns sharing little stories about their families. It felt so nice to finally have a dialog instead of a constant Stiles' one-man show.

"I always admired my parents for making time for each other, even with their demanding jobs. When they both didn't have an evening shift, they used to dance around the living room, bumping into the furniture. It was the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

The werewolf watched with a strange expression. "Do you want to? Dance, I mean," he clarified when he saw Stiles's confusion.

He gaped at him. "What?" 

"Stiles," the older man stood up, determined, and held his hand out for Stiles to take. "Would you like to dance?"

"Dude, there's no music," he objected weakly.

The sudden loud music made him jump a few inches off the ground. When he turned to A1an, his previous smiley face had been replaced by a winky one. Stiles glowered at him, but that naturally didn't bother the robot at all. He turned back towards Derek.

"You were saying?" he smirked. "Do you have any other objections?"

Stiles shook his head, taking the proffered hand. He was pulled to his feet, Derek's other hand coming to rest on his hip.

"Just follow my lead," Derek said, surprising Stiles as he lengthened his step to one side. He clutched hard at the other man's shoulder. "Relax, it's fine." He could feel his breath brush against his ear.

After a while, Stiles finally gained confidence and loosened his hold on Derek's shoulder.

"How are you so good at this?" he asked, leaning back a little to look at the older man. It was getting dark, and the fire had almost died out, but he could still see his face quite well.

"I had two sisters. Do you really think I've never been obliged to play a prince?" he answered with a smirk.

"Did they at least get you a paper crown?"

"Better," he said with a serious expression. "A plastic one."

Stiles threw his head back with laughter. "I honestly can't tell if you're being serious or not."

"I'd never joke about something as important as my royal crown."

"U-huh," Stiles smiled but otherwise didn't say anything.

They kept moving from side to side, one song turning into two and then three.

"You know, the last time I danced with someone was at the prom in my sophomore year. Lydia actually asked me out."

Derek smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I've never gone to prom. It was too loud and crowded for me."

"Did you want to?"

"I did," he admitted. "Mostly because I wanted to ask one girl to go with me. She actually moved away like three weeks before the prom night, so in the end, I just stayed at home and watched some movie."

Stiles was about to ask a question regarding being a werewolf at high school when he felt something strange touch his shoulder. He squealed, turning and tucking himself under Derek's arm.

Where he stood just a second before was a tentacle hanging from the sky. His gaze followed it up, and he gulped at what he saw.

There were at least ten giant jellyfish-like monsters. They were floating through the air, all of them softly glowing in all imaginable colors.

"We should probably go inside," he whispered. "I'll put the fire out, you take A1an."

Derek didn't let go of him, instead hugged him closer into his side. "No, don't worry about them."

"What?" he asked in shock, looking down from the sky to the other man's face. It was tinged pink and purple from the jellyfish above them. "What do you mean, 'don't worry about them'? They are monsters."

Derek smiled at that. "Not all monsters do monstrous things, Stiles." With that, he looked back up to look at the sky, the smile still present. "Laura used to call them Sky Jellies. They aren't dangerous if you don't directly attack them."

"Which we won't," he said.

"Exactly."

They stood side by side, Derek's arm still thrown over his shoulders, while Stiles' snaked around the werewolf's waist.

The music stopped as abruptly as it started.

They both looked over their shoulders - the face on A1an's face had disappeared, his body slumping forward. His battery had run out.

"Thanks for the party, buddy," Stiles whispered. He more felt than saw Derek nod.

* * *

Stiles spent the night on the couch, buried under two thick blankets, and then stealing Derek's while the werewolf was sound asleep.

In the morning, they'd divided their belongings into two backpacks, one for each of them. Stiles didn't ask if Derek wanted to shift back into the wolf form - he supposed the man would say so if he wanted to.

The forest had gradually started to thin out as they neared the coast. 

The sun was high in the sky when Stiles caught the sight of Lydia's camp.

It wasn't underground as the bunker he had come from, the people hiding in the cave complex, the entries facing the ocean.

As they walked, the people stared at them. It probably wasn't every day that new survivors showed up.

And then Stiles saw her.

She stood with her hands on her hips, giving orders to two men who were taking apart some kind of a wooden structure. Her strawberry blond shone in the sunlight, flowing freely in the breeze.

When she noticed the men had stopped listening to her, she followed their line of sight, and Stiles felt as if he had forgotten how to breathe. 

He had dreamt of this moment for so long.

Lydia's face brightened up when she saw him. "Stiles!" she screeched as she ran towards him. "Oh my god, it's you, it's really you!" She threw her arms around, hugging all air out of his lungs. "I was so worried about you. Guys from your bunker said you left the day after we talked, and they haven't heard from you ever since. You have to radio them. They'll be so relieved."

"Lydia," he finally managed to get a word out. "I'm so glad I'm here." He buried his face into the crook of her neck.

She patted him on his back. "You must be hungry. We just had lunch but I'm sure there's some left for you and for your friend?" She pulled away to look at Derek, who was looking at the ground awkwardly.

"Oh, sorry," Stiles took a step back but kept his arm around Lydia's waist. "Lydia, this is Derek. We've met on the way. Derek, this is Lydia."

"It's nice to meet you," she held out her hand.

"You too," the werewolf said. "I've heard a lot about you."

She smiled at that. "Well, if Stiles' is still the same as he was in high school, I have to say I'm not that surprised."

"Hey!" he objected.

"Oh, don't hey me. It's the truth," she patted his cheek. "Come on, I wasn't joking about the food."

Stiles followed her like a well-trained puppy, smiling, completely ignoring Derek, who trailed after them. 

* * *

"I'm gonna be heading out soon," Derek announced when they were sitting at a table, their lunch almost finished. It was just the two of them - Lydia had to leave to take care of some business.

"What?" Stiles stared at him, dumbfounded. "What do you mean you're gonna be heading out soon? We _just_ got here."

"Yeah," the werewolf shrugged, his eyes focused on the stew on his plate. "I was thinking. And I want to go into the mountains like Melissa and Scott did. It's not like I have anything left here," he finished weakly.

Stiles gulped. "When you say soon, how soon are we talking?"

"Right after I finish eating."

The younger man could feel his eyes widen. "But why?"

"Well, you've got Lydia now. And I don't really want to stay here. There're way too many people around."

"And there's nothing I can do to make you stay?"

"No," he shook his head, smiling faintly. "But it's okay, Stiles. You got what you wanted. We have to go our separate ways now."

For some reason, it felt very much like a break-up. It was probably the phrasing.

"Okay. All in all, it's your decision." Stiles nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. The sight of Derek's cleaned out bowl almost made him tear up. "Well then, I guess now it's the time to thank you again for all the times you saved my life."

"Stiles," he sighed. "We've already told about this. There's no need to thank me because we're even." He stood up, hefting his backpack onto his back. "I'm glad I've had the chance to meet you, Stiles Stilinski. You truly are a wonderful human being." He leaned forward and kissed Stiles on his cheek. "Thank Lydia for the food for me, will you?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Stiles nodded. He was absolutely speechless - that had happened only a handful of times in his life.

He watched as Derek looked at him for the last time, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in an attempt of a smile. The werewolf raised his hand in a goodbye, then turned his back towards Stiles and walked out of the camp, disappearing between the trees not long after.

* * *

When Lydia found him again, he was still sitting in the same spot, the meal in front of him only half-finished. It got colder, the sun almost gone now.

She sat next to him and laid her head onto his hunched shoulder.

"So," she started after a long while of silence. "He left?"

Stiles nodded, not trusting his voice just yet.

"Huh."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, huh," she replied. "I was fairly certain there was something going on between the two of you."

A short laugh left his mouth. "What? No. We've met like four days ago. That's not long enough to get to know each other well enough."

"Yet you've walked over half of California just to see me. And the only thing we've ever done together was going to prom and kissing once."

"Yeah, but that's you, Lydia," he objected weakly.

"Stiles. Please, look at me," she pleaded. "Stiles." He looked up from his hands folded on the table in front of him. "Please tell me you didn't put your life on hold just because of that kiss seven years ago." 

When he lowered his gaze, she knew the answer. 

"Oh, honey," she brushed her hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry. I thought you got the hint, but I guess we never really talked about it." She sighed. "Three years ago, I started seeing one of the guys from one of the camps nearby."

Stiles' mouth fell open. "You've never mentioned that!"

"I realize that now," she conceded. "And I'm so sorry. I just never thought you'd still think about the two of us that way. I thought all those calls were just because we were friends. I mean, the kiss was _years_ ago."

Stiles wiped his eyes, not noticing the tears had fallen. "I guess it was just something for me to hold on. To keep some part of my life as it was before," he said after a long while.

She nodded. "Yeah, probably. But look, what you and Derek have, that wasn't seven years ago, Stiles, that's happening _right now_. And even if it's not anything now, trust me, it certainly has the potential."

It felt like his brain had exploded, like someone had suddenly taken off his Lydia-tinted glasses and let him see that Derek was the first person since the 'apocalypse' whom he had connected with.

Oh.

_Oh._

How had he not seen that before? The easy banter, the saving each other, the conversations about their families, the dancing, the parting kiss on his cheek.

"You're absolutely right," he nodded firmly, then stood up. "I have to go find him, I have to tell him how I feel about him."

Lydia laughed softly. "That's great. But it's dark, and you'd probably die the moment you stepped out of the camp." She got to her feet, much more gracefully than him. "But you can definitely get up bright and early. You know where he's heading, right?" He nodded. "Okay. Let's go, I'll introduce you to some people here, and we'll find you some dinner. Even if you hadn't finished lunch yet."

"Sounds like a plan." He smiled. "Thank you."

They walked silently towards the fire, where most of the people sat and ate.

"Lydia?"

"Yes, Stiles?"

"Does the guy treat you right?"

Her smile was blinding. "Yes. Yes, he does."

* * *

Stiles sat in front of the radio, staring blankly at the wall.

He had just finished talking with the people back at his bunker, assuring them he was alive and safe. They were quite surprised he had made it and he'd be offended except he was a little surprised too. When asked when he would get back, he truthfully said he didn't know. He had to go after Derek, and that could take days, maybe even weeks.

After his conversation with Lydia, she introduced him to Deucalion, the captain of the ship that was supposed to take them to a safe place, and his two friends Kali and Ennis. Their yacht was anchored not far from the coast. They were supposed to leave in two days, and since the next evening would be spent packing all stuff, Lydia decided they should have a goodbye party.

Stiles didn't really feel like drinking acid-tasting alcohol and talking to people he had never met before, so he left to sit alone in the radio room. Lydia promised to send someone with dinner, and after the talk with his friends at the bunker, he felt slightly better.

His head turned when the door behind him opened. 

"Hey, Bobby." Stiles couldn't help but smile when he saw Finstock. "How are you doing this fine evening?"

"Shut it, Stilinski," the man growled. "I've already told Lydia. I'm _not_ a servant." He put the plate on the edge of the table with a loud thud. "Now, I've delivered you this delicious dish cooked by captain Deucalion himself, so I can get back to drinking."

Without another word, he turned on his heels and walked away, shutting the door behind him.

Stiles smirked. Finstock was even stranger in person.

Pulling the bowl closer, he picked up the spoon and was about to dig in when he noticed the red pieces floating in the porridge.

He couldn't be sure, but he was fairly certain those were the berries Derek has once warned him of.

The spoon rattled against the floor.

_...this delicious dish cooked by captain Deucalion himself..._

_...we got some word from the camp on the coast next to ours..._

_...a group of people came to them on a yacht and took them to a safe place..._

_...we haven't heard from them ever since, so they must have left..._

**_We haven't heard from them ever since._ **

Lydia's words were repeating in his head like a broken record.

He stood so fast the chair fell down to the ground.

"Lydia? Lydia!" he ran to the beach where most of the people were dancing or drinking. He saw the redhead rocking from side to side, her head thrown back, stupid smile on her face. "Lyds, hey," he caught her around the waist. "Are you all right?"

"I'm amazing, Stiles." She laughed. It sounded so carefree and so unlike her, it scared him. "Do you want to dance? We haven't danced since prom night. You know I only asked you so I'd make Jackson jealous? But you turned out so good I wanted to date you instead," she patted him on his cheek.

"While that fact truly hurts me to my very soul, we've got a bigger problem on our hands," he said quietly, pulling her closer so they could pretend to dance. "I'm pretty sure Deucalion and his crew are trying to poison all of us. There were poisonous berries in the oatmeal they cooked. Seriously, who makes oatmeal for breakfast? And I'm also pretty sure something is wrong with the drinks too," he added as he watched Finstock finish his glass and then slump to the side.

"You mean the beer Deuc makes?" Lydia asked him, pulling away, almost falling back in the process. "He makes his own beer, isn't that cool?"

"Yeah," Stiles agreed when he saw she didn't actually hear a word he had said. "So cool."

He looked around.

More and more people were falling from their seats. The movement of the dancing ones looked less coordinated with every passing minute. They started to resemble delirious zombies.

"Lydia," he whispered. "I want you to go with me, okay? We'll hide in one of the caves. I'm going to try to find some fern roots," he remembered what Derek said when he saved him from the leeches, "so you can pull yourself together. Then we're going to work on how to save the rest of your people, okay?"

She nodded, but her head tilted back as she grinned at the night sky.

"Okay, that's not a yes, but I'm gonna take it. Which normally I wouldn't, because silence means no. But you know, desperate times. And I'm also trying to save your life," he chattered, hefting her arm around his shoulder, slowly walking away from the partying crowd.

"Hey, are you Stiles?"

He looked up, only to see Kali approaching him with a cold look in her eyes.

He straightened up. "Yes. Yes, I am-"

By no means did she let him finish the sentence, instead hitting his head with something hard. He dropped to the ground, sand and stones roughly scratching his skin.

His last thought before Kali struck again was that he should have just gone with Derek.

* * *

A horrible headache woke him up. His vision was blurry, and for a moment, all he could see was the beige of the beach sand and the light blue of the sky.

Then he realized his hands were tied above him. When he tried to give them a tug, they didn't move an inch.

"Stiles?"

His head shot to the left, his head spinning at the movement. 

Lydia's hands were fastened right next to his. But where his were secured by a pair of rusty metal handcuffs, hers were secured with a thick rope.

She looked as if she had a hangover, which all in all was pretty accurate.

"Hey, Lyds," he croaked. His throat was unbelievably dry. "What happened?"

She shook her head. "I'm not entirely sure," she admitted. "I don't really remember what happened ever since you went to the radio room."

He was about to tell her about what he had told her the night before when a shadow fell upon his eyes. He squinted - a tall figure stood above him.

"I gotta be honest," Deucalion stated as he crouched in front of him so his face was on the same level as Stiles'. "I didn't really count you in. The berries don't grow in this area, so I thought no one would come to realize what's happening." Reaching out, his fingers brushed against the side of Stiles' head, coming back red with dried blood.

"You've done this before, right? To the other groups along the coast," Stiles guessed. "Why?" he added when he saw Deucalion's mocking smile.

"You know," he shrugged, standing up and turning to the ocean. "It's been several years since the human race had run out of fossil fuels. But the yacht still needs something to propel it." From the corner of his eye, Stiles could see Lydia trying to untie the rope while Deucalion went on with his villain-y monologue. "We found an alternative, but it still costs us something."

"So, you're going to sacrifice us to the Gods of water so they'd carry your boat to the next group of naive survivors?" 

As soon as he saw the man's slimy smirk, he wished the words had never left his mouth. "Not exactly."

At that moment, the water surface not far from them began to ripple, the small waves quickly turning bigger and bigger.

Both Lydia and Stiles watched in horror as a sturdy shell pierced through the water surface. Step by step, a giant crab-monster emerged from the ocean. Its body was covered in seaweed with lichen-looking spots scattered all over.

"A crab?" Lydia gasped, incredulous. "You use a giant crab to pull your ship? And we're what, its food?"

"That's _exactly_ what you are, Lydia. You two and the rest of your merry group of survivors."

She looked over her shoulder, eyes wide with fear.

All the other people from the camp were propped up against rocks along the coast, all of them still deep asleep or at least not moving.

"While I expected you to still be unconscious while we do this, I gotta be honest, your screams are going to make this so much more fun." Deucalion grinned viciously, then reached for a small box that was secured to his belt. Upon a push of a button, the crab came to a halt, his bony legs shaking in spasm.

"This has been incredibly nice and all, but I'm afraid I must be going." The older man walked backward as he waved at them. "After all, this place is gonna be pretty bloody very soon."

With those words, he joined Kali and Ennis, who were waiting for him in a small boat.

The monster continued to shake on the spot but Stiles knew it was only a matter of time before Deucalion turned off whatever was causing the spasms.

"Okay, what are we going to do?" he asked, eyes still focused on the crab. "I'm not sure I can get out of the cuffs, but maybe I can-"

Lydia's hoarse cry interrupted him. She managed to untie the knot, took a rock lying nearby, and crashed it against Stiles' handcuffs. The rusty metal gave up under the force of the impact.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, rubbing his wrists. "You could've amputated me!"

"But I didn't, did I?" She blew a strand of her hair away from her face, throwing the rock away. "Come on, we have to lure it away from the others." She pulled him to his feet.

Just as she said it, the creature moved towards them.

"Great plan, go. Go!" Stiles prodded her into running, following closely behind.

They raced along the coast, sand slipping under their feet. The crab evidently liked to chase its food because it completely ignored the unconscious people.

"Do you have anything we can use to kill it?" Stiles panted.

Lydia nodded. "Yeah, I think so. When we came here, we collected all our weapons and ammunition and hid it in a shack not far from here. There should be something with enough firepower to take the crab out."

She kicked down the door of the shack, which looked like it was second from falling apart on its own.

"I think there should be something in the back, that - aha!"

He suddenly found his hands full of what looked like a grenade launcher.

"Where did you guys get this?" he questioned, examing the weapon.

Lydia just shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I wasn't in charge back then." She handed him a small grenade. "Okay, shoot it."

He looked at her, doubtful, but she was still rummaging through the stuff in the shack.

Stiles took a few steps forward, resting the butt end of a weapon on his shoulder and gradually slowing his breath. He tried to think about everything Scott had told him, but his mind was too busy to let him truly concentrate.

His finger hovered over the trigger, almost taking the shot when Lydia's high-pitched shriek cut through the air.

He spun around just to see Ennis' fist heading towards his face. It was too late to react, and the punch landed with a sick crunch.

"Fuck!" he cried out. "I thought you've left."

"No such luck, sweetheart." Kali's voice was oddly calm, although she kept trying to land a hit on Lydia. The younger woman managed to avoid any contact, instead grabbing a samurai sword to protect herself. "Deuc wanted to make sure our little pet got all the food we got him."

Ennis' hand closed around Stiles' neck, hoisting him a few inches off the ground. The younger man tried to kick him in his crotch, or any part of his body honestly, but with very little success.

His breath started getting shorter and more shallow, white spots dancing all over his vision.

He could feel himself on the verge of passing out when the pressure from Ennis' hand suddenly vanished. Stiles fell to the ground, gasping for air.

When the white spots finally receded, he looked up.

Where Ennis previously stood was a big black wolf, his back facing Stiles, head pointed towards the retreating limping bald man. Ennis' left leg had a deep imprint of the wolf's teeth.

A deep growl made the man stagger away even faster.

For a second, Kali's attention shifted to the wolf, and it was a second too long. Lydia had stabbed her side with the sword. The older woman remained standing, but with horror in her face and eyes trained on both Lydia and the black animal. Before any of them moved, she chased after Ennis, pressing her hands against the wound to stop the bleeding.

After a moment of stunned silence, Stiles finally found his voice again.

"Der?"

The wolf turned around, and if wolves could grin, he'd definitely grin.

"Oh my god," Stiles leaped at the werewolf, throwing his arms around his neck, burying his face in the soft black fur. "You came back. You came back," he kept whispering. "I never should have let you go."

Derek nudged the side of his face with his snout.

"As touching as this is," Lydia made herself known, "we've got a bigger problem at our hands." When they turned to her, she gestured at the giant crab-monster who was still making its way towards them. It was slow but persistent.

"Yeah, you're right," Stiles said, untangling himself from the 'hug'.

Taking a wide stance, he placed the butt end of a weapon on his shoulder once again and looked through the sights.

He was about to launch the grenade when he noticed the rusty chain that crept all over the crab's body. 

_It's being forced into this,_ he realized.

"This isn't right," he said, lowering the weapon.

"What?" Lydia asked in disbelief.

"It's not right," Stiles repeated. "It doesn't feel right." He lowered his gaze to the wolf, who was sitting on his haunches by the man's leg, staring up at him. "Not all monsters do monstrous things." 

Derek nodded.

Stiles gave him a smile, then raced towards the monster.

"Stiles, what the hell are you doing?" He heard Lydia screaming, but he didn't think much of it. What was important was Derek running right by his side, paws thumping against the sand.

When they got close enough so that he could see the chain behind the crab, laying across the beach as some kind of metal snake, he stopped, aimed, and fired. He didn't even think of it. That's what Scott had said - don't think about it too much.

Surprisingly, it worked.

The grenade detonated close to the crab, propelling him slightly forward but thankfully its shell was sturdy enough to avoid any harm.

Stiles was worried that the moment it realized it could move freely, it would eat them, but the creature just stood there, its little eyes staring at him and Derek. 

Then all of a sudden, it turned around and disappeared back into the water as quickly as it had previously emerged.

Lydia finally caught up to them. The trio stood silently on the beach, the grenade launcher in Stiles' hand still smoking slightly.

They watched as the crab surfaced again, first next to a little boat with Kali and Ennis, and then close to the yacht where Deucalion supposedly waited for his crewmates to return. Both sank in a matter of minutes.

The crab submerged, and they didn't see it again.

Stiles dropped the weapon to the ground. It was useless now.

"I can't believe we've actually made it," he whispered.

Derek suddenly turned around, heading towards the tree line.

"Der? Where are you going?" Stiles shouted after him. He wanted to run after him but then decided against it. Surely the older man wouldn't just leave, right?

At the corner of his eye, he saw Lydia looking at him curiously.

"So, uhm," he muttered. "Werewolves. Are a thing. That's happening."

"I know, Stiles," she laughed. "The guy I'm seeing is a hellhound." Her smile froze. "Well, I was seeing him." Tears filled her eyes. "He lived in the camp, which was supposed to be moved to the safe place before us. I guess," she sniffed, "I guess he didn't make it."

"Lydia." Stiles pulled her closer, letting her bury her head in his chest. "I'm sorry." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm so sorry."

He kept repeating those words over and over again, hoping she found at least some comfort in them.

After a while, she pulled away, wiping the tears off her face.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head. "I'm not, but I will. At some point." She gave him a watery smile. "You should go get your man."

Stiles looked over his shoulder and saw Derek, this time in human form, standing awkwardly at the edge of the beach, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. "I probably should."

"I'm gonna check on the other guys." She kissed him on his cheek - the sixteen-year-old in him fainted, but his twenty-four-years old self just smiled at her.

He tried to keep his gait as nonchalant as possible, but he already knew he failed when he saw Derek's mouth twitch slightly upwards.

"Hey." Stiles couldn't help but feel tentative.

Derek's smile was blinding. "Hey yourself."

"You could have just come to us."

"You guys were having a moment," he shrugged. "She kissed you. And you didn't faint."

Stiles threw his head back in laughter - this man knew way too much about him considering they had met less than a week ago. "To be honest, I think a part of me did."

Derek hummed but otherwise didn't say anything.

"Why did you come back?" Stiles asked, feigned disinterest in his voice.

"Well, I made it back to where we split with Melissa and Scott," the werewolf shrugged. "But then I realized it was too quiet."

The younger man's eyebrows shot up. "It was too quiet? Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Derek nodded. "You see, there's this guy I've spent last few days with and he doesn't know when to shut up. At first, it was annoying as hell, but it grew on me." Stiles could feel himself blushing. "And I just wanted to see him again and ask him if, maybe, he wanted to come with me. Or I'd probably follow him everywhere."

"So," Stiles drew out, "the guy you're talking about. Is it serious?"

Derek looked unsure but held Stiles' gaze. "I don't know. Last time I knew he was totally hung up on not-so-his highschool sweetheart. But I have it from a reliable source that she's seeing someone else."

"Damn werewolf hearing," Stiles muttered, closing his eyes momentarily.

"So I guess my question should be - does _he_ see _her_ that way?"

"If I spoke on his behalf, I'd say that his head is occupied by someone else than her." The younger man's eyes opened as he looked into Derek's hopeful eyes. "Oh my god, this conversation is getting us absolutely nowhere," he exclaimed suddenly, threw himself forward, and planted a kiss on Derek's lips. "I was ready to go after you in the morning, but then this all happened, and I'm so glad you're here because just a few hours after you've left I missed you so much already. And it's weird because we've met less than a week ago, but you already know so much about me, even though I don't know nearly enough about you, like what the hell's your last name or what is your favorite food. Do you have a favorite food as a human and a different one as a wolf? Do the things taste differently when you're in-"

This time, the rant was silenced by Derek's hands pulling him closer by his hips and his lips being occupied by another kiss, this one so much more intense.

They kissed for what felt like hours but when they pulled apart, Stiles felt like it still wasn't enough.

"Hale," Derek said as he rested his forehead against Stiles', his thumbs brushing his hipbones through his shirt.

The younger man frowned in confusion. "What?"

"You wanted to know my last name." His voice was a little hoarse. "It's Hale."

"Hale," Stiles repeated, pulling back. "Any chance you have a relative named Peter?"

Now it was time for Derek to look confused. "Peter?"

"In his late forties, about this high," he gestured, "muscular, blue eyes, light brown hair. He's a werewolf too. Dating a former werewolf hunter, which, now that I think of it, I probably shouldn't have just told you without a warning," he trailed off when he saw Derek wince.

"Uncle Peter is dating a hunter?" he asked with an unreadable face.

"Yeah. But don't worry, Chris doesn't hunt anymore, at least not any supernatural creatures." Stiles linked his hands behind Derek's neck, softly nudging him closer before he kissed him lightly on the corner of his lips. "I promise, they're not going to hurt you."

"I believe you," he whispered. "I do. It's just a lot to take in. I thought I was the last of my family alive."

Stiles brushed a hand through the werewolf's hair. "I'm so glad you're not. And we're going to see him and the rest of the guys back there as soon as we make sure Lydia's all good to take care of the camp again. Which reminds me, we should probably go help her." He took a step back, holding his out for Derek to take. "What do you say?"

He seemed to think about it for a second before taking the proffered hand. "Okay. But then we get your guys out of the bunker and head to the mountains."

Stiles grinned. "Sounds like a plan, big guy."

* * *

A couple of days later, Stiles stood at the edge of the forest again, this time with Derek in his wolf form.

"Are you sure you have everything you need?" Lydia asked worriedly.

He nodded with a smile. "Don't worry, you pretty much stuffed half the armory into my backpack."

"Just be careful," she hugged him for probably the hundredth time. "And you, you watch out for him, okay?" her eyes were aimed down at Derek as she said those words.

He huffed, agreeing.

Lydia nodded and smiled at Stiles.

"I'll see you soon, Lyds," he kissed her on her cheek. She had agreed to move with the group into the mountains too. The beach now held way too many bad memories.

With the last smile, both Stiles and Derek turned around, facing the dense forest.

"So," he said, gazing down at the werewolf who was already looking up at him. "I guess it's just me and you now, buddy, huh?"

Derek's loud bark resounded in the air as they stepped forward, side by side.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe it's actually finished. I know it's not a very long fic, but it still took me a lot of time. So I hope at least one of you likes it. I'm aware that there are some plot holes, but I don't care enough. 😀
> 
> This fic is not beta'd, but if there's someone out there who would proofread this, I'd be so so grateful. Don't hesitate to message me.
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! ❤️ Come say hi on my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/zenawa). 
> 
> I made the 'cover art' even though I suck at this kind of thing (but if you want to make a one yourself or maybe a gifset go ahead, just don't forget to tag me, because I want to see it 😊). It can also be found on my tumblr. I used the Spark Post app, the pics are screenshots from the Love and Monsters (2020) trailer, the app's archive and the wolf is from [HERE](https://cz.pinterest.com/pin/440226932329935216/). Credits to the owners.


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